Dancing to Songs on Mute
by Parlare
Summary: She pulls it closer and skims her fingers along its shape, digging her nails into the chipping paint to distract herself from her fluster. "What IS my type?" "Intellectuals." He offers simply, using the comb to guide her long hair and neatly gather it into one of his palms. A stark contrast to her usual method, which was just bunching it up with just her hands. "...And Outsiders."


The esteemed Lord Preston Moray's sharp-witted but eccentric wife, Vera Moray, heaves a heavy sigh. The room is dreary. Dim lit, the only light comes from a set of lanterns decorated along the layout of the room. Their soft purple glow seemed to dance along the walls, gracing the soft features of her guest's face and illuminating those beautiful dark eyes of his. He watches her from his place at the edge of her bed. She can see him sitting cross-legged behind her as she peers at his dark form through her vanity mirror, taking note of how his fascinating eyes seemed to be locked on to her comb as its teeth glide effortlessly through her stunning hair... she chooses to ignore his rather bored expression.

"My dreary husband should be gone for some time today, dearie." She speaks; the movement she makes in grooming herself slows to a near-stop as her brown eyes behold the bane of the Abbey himself through her mirror.

"Should he." He responds flatly.

"Oh yes, Preston promised to take me to Morley again and is off making the necessary arrangements." The noblewoman resumes dragging her comb through her hair, the Void god taking notice of the way she scrunches her face when she pulls upon a tangle. "He said he'd do anything to get me to stop crafting runes. He said we will visit Wynnedown and see the ruins of the Dubhghoill manor that was destroyed during the Morley Insurrection. Dubhghoill is my maiden name, dearie. It means 'dark upset'."

"Dark _stranger_."

"Pardon?"

"Dubhghoill is old Morlish. It means _dark stranger_." The Outsider's tone of voice shifts, the god showing the first sign of actual interest in the conversation since she had summoned him to the hidden shrine she had erected for her heretical worship of the Void Walker.

"...Oh." She responds, slight hint of stiffness dwelling in her voice. "Anyways..." She interrupts herself with the sound of her comb setting on her vanity, both hands lifting behind her head to scoop all of her hair up in order to pull it back into a hair tie. "I'm very excited for the trip."

The Outsider watches as Vera ties her hair back, her painted lips forming a dissatisfied slant as she pulls her hands away and inspects her work in the mirror. "Why is that?" He inquires, despite already knowing what she will say.

"Because..." the woman starts as she pulls her hair tie out, allowing her hair to fall to her shoulders before snatching up the comb and starting her process again. "Morley is farther north than we are, dearie. There will be more whales and therefore—"

"— _more whale bones to collect_ , yes." The Void God interjects if only to cut to his next question faster. "How do you expect to slip away from your husband?"

"Oh _please_ , my dreary husband is always so easily distracted on these trips." She gives a passive wave of her hand before trying another attempt at tying her hair back.

"Even trips dedicated to pulling you back from the edge of the Void?"

Vera can't help but scoff at the thought. "Preston is a scholar, dearie, if I had to guess, then my mental health is just an excuse he's using so he can have a reason visit the Morley Gallery of History and Sculpture. He always has his nose buried in a book or his face pressed against a glass museum display — he reminds me of _you_ _,_ dearie~" The playful demeanor she takes on fades as she examines her hair, once again unhappy with the result. She gives a defeated sigh, slamming her petite hands onto her vanity.

"Of _me_?" The Outsider stands to his feet and approaches his mark from behind. Black eyes fixated upon her small frame from within the mirror's reflection, the god reaches for her comb and for a third time do its teeth meet her fine hair.

The deity's gesture is rewarded with a smile from Vera. She straightens her posture but dares not to look at the Outsider's reflection due to the increasing heat growing in her cheeks. She was blushing! The Outsider had her _blushing_! When was the last time Preston made her blush? _Probably never_ , she muses.

"He's always looking for something to learn!" She starts, her voice taking a noticeably more innocent tone than before. "My husband always taking notes from an encyclopedia, he's as hungry for information as you are!"

"Sounds to me like you have a type." The god states, inked out orbs fixated on Vera's hair. He's careful with his movements as he pulls the comb through her soft strands _._ _Not too hard, not too fast, don't carve up her scalp or yank the comb,_ the Outsider reminds himself as he manipulates her hair with his pale hands.

 _"A type_." Vera parrots, hands reaching for the painted, wooden jewelry box that she kept on her vanity. She pulls it closer and skims her fingers along its shape, digging her nails into the chipping paint to distract herself from her fluster. "What _is_ my type?"

"Intellectuals." He offers simply, using the comb to guide her long hair and neatly gather it into one of his palms. A stark contrast to her usual method, which was just bunching it up with just her hands. "...And Outsiders."

Mouth slightly agape, her brows shoot upwards in response to his claim before daring to behold the Outsider in her mirror for the first time since he began to groom her. Finally witnessing the beautiful god as he carefully combs her hair, any boldness she might have gained to refute his statement was lost. The sight makes her heart flutter and she didn't know it was possible for her cheeks to get so hot.

"—I have no idea what you're talking about!"

"Certainly you must. Your cheeks are glowing as bright as a nest of angry bloodflies!"

Vera catches a glimpse of his smile in the mirror and it drives her crazy.

"You find comfort in my presence, the presence of the Void." The Outsider begins, holding her hair in one hand, leaning forward slightly to set her comb down on her vanity. The woman offers him her hair tie and carefully, he begins to fashion her hair in the way he knows she prefers: the same way her mother used to style her hair for her when she was young.

"It's why you pulled that jewelry box close to you. There's a rune inside of it. I could hear its songs from your bed."

Vera's eyes fall from the Outsider's reflection to the jewelry box in question, hands moving to unlatch the small lock on the front of the container before lifting the lid and opening it up, amplifying the artifact's sweet hum.

The Outsider's eyes close for a moment, a near-wicked smirk replaces the soft smile he wore as he revels in the sounds that the carved whalebone offered; the delightful, hedonistic whispers of the Void gracing his normally-dulled senses like hits of ecstasy. An inviting warmth, reaching all the right places.

The Outsider was part of the Void, normally grounded within its twisted realm. Not often did the deity take these field trips and venture beyond the plane he called home, but when he did, the greedy Void was sure to call upon him and demand his swift return. The Outsider could feel the Void's grip on him, an invisible force attempting to yank him back. Even now, the rune's songs, as alluring as they are to the god, command his retreat in a dead language only he could decipher.

 _Not yet, not yet._

The Void Walker takes a step away from Vera, prompting the woman to look up and abandon her rune in favor of inspecting the god's work instead. She leans closer to themirror, moving her head to the left, then the right with a pleased smile curling on her lips.

"If I didn't know any better, I would say you've done this before, dearie!" She exclaims happily, turning her body to fully face the Outsider while still remaining in her seat.

"I have had many years to observe." The Outsider says plainly, offering a long, bony hand to the woman, his other arm tucked behind his back properly.

Vera hesitates, eyes glued to his outreached hand. She remembers her husband, the force dedicated to keeping her away from black magic, witchcraft and heresy; to keeping her safe from the wrath of the Abbey of the Everyman... to protecting her from the very god whose hand was outstretched before her. Vera thinks of these things as she lifts her gaze to the Outsider's blackened orbs, her brown eyes peering into the Void itself.

In this moment, Vera Moray is forced to make a decision. And in this moment, she chooses the Void.

The noblewoman reaches her soft hand to his and gently, the Outsider guides her up from her seat and pulls her into his embrace. Vera's cheeks burn once again as the Void God wraps one arm around her torso, hand resting beneath her shoulder blade and his other hand still carefully holding her own. Hesitant from her own fluster, Vera places her free arm atop his shoulder and the duo becomes locked in a dance.

Carefully, the Outsider begins to lead his gentle mark, using the song of the nearby rune to dictate his movements. He looks down at her with an expressionless gaze, and Vera, with her cheeks so bright and eyes so wide, follows his movements eagerly.

A silence overcomes the two as the Void god leads the noblewoman around the room. Careful with his mark, the Outsider dares to dip Vera which results in a large smile forming on her painted lips.

Upon being pulled upright once more, Vera dares to move closer to the Outsider; the arm that rested atop his shoulder now found a new home loosely around his neck. The Outsider takes note of her bold move and responds in kind. Carefully, the Void god snakes his arm around her waist and holds her body at a slight distance from his.

Big brown orbs look up to those alien black eyes of his and Vera holds his gaze, staring through the dark window of the Void itself and seeing something truly beautiful within it.

The air is electric and the duo dance charismatically around the room. Vera excitedly clings to the Outsider, following his elegant lead perfectly to the enigmatic purrs of the nearby rune. Vera accepts the Void fully as she dances with it; finally freeing herself of all of her worries, of her doubts and the many thoughts of her husband. She washes herself of Lord Preston Moray, the man who frequently confines her and locks her away from the Void.

The dreary room surrounding the two begins to melt away and change into something more magical. All the mark can focus on is the Outsider, allowing him to take her where he pleases. He steps back, she steps forward. He moves right, she gladly follows. He lifts his arm, she gracefully twirls around.

The duo become one, at least in this moment, as they dance effortlessly around with chemistry as though they had known each other their whole lives, as though they were meant for one another.

They _were_ meant for one another, as far as Vera is concerned.

"Be truthful now," Vera begins, brown orbs still lost in the Outsider's eyes. "Do you treat all of your marks this well?"

A trace of a smile comes to his lips. "Hah, perhaps not." The Outsider keeps his body straightened as Vera pulls herself closer to him. Despite the closeness between the duo, the Outsider remains stiff and disconnected from Vera, who tries her best to bridge the gap between the two as they dance.

"No?" Vera asks, hopeful browns glimmering up at the Outsider in a futile attempt to drag a more direct declaration of love from him.

The Void Walker looks down at Vera, taking notice of the way the purple hues from the glowing lantern light up her features. There is no admiration in his cold orbs as they behold the woman before him. In truth, there is hardly any attachment, only curiosity.

What could happen to a woman, whose frayed sanity was on the verge on snapping, if she was given a mark? What could someone so unpredictable do to change the course of a growing empire if given the power? …What could happen if he granted her the affection she so badly craved from him?

The Outsider's black eyes are in her direction but they're looking past her. He instead chooses to not answer her question. Vera frowns for a moment before resting her head on his shoulder in a sneaky attempt to persuade him. He supposes he should have expected this.

The Void God doesn't protest, but he is no closer to loving her than before. Instead he remains silent; their dance eventually devolving into a slow rocking motion with Vera still clinging to him.

The two stay like this for a short time, swaying together to their silent song before the Outsider stops completely. Head lifted, narrowed black eyes staring towards the noblewoman's bedroom door. Vera's brows furrow in confusion, brown orbs glancing from the Outsider to the door.

"Is something the m—" Vera attempts to ask, but is quickly interrupted by an index finger pressed against her mouth but once again offers her no response.

After all this time beckoning him and demanding his return, the Outsider finally heeds the Void's call. There's movement in the air and in that instant, the god disappears into a burst of playful black particles, leaving Vera speechless and all alone, her arms still stretched out as though she was still holding him close to her.

Almost as though on cue, the door opens and Lord Preston Moray enters the room. The loving smile painted on his face erasing completely as he beholds the sight in front of him: his wife standing alone in the purple tones of her chambers. He glances to the newly carved rune exposed within her open jewelry box and heaves an annoyed sigh. No, Preston couldn't be surprised at this… He had known she had carved another one, he could feel its heavy energy weighing down their estate for days now.

The nobleman steps deeper into the room, the sharp smell of copper and moon dust attacking his nostrils as he comes closer towards his wife. That black-eyed bastard was most certainly here, no doubt trying to steal Vera away from him and drown her into the Void.

The Outsider's sudden departure had left Vera jarred; dancing so closely with the Void itself, only to have it torn away from her so quickly was akin to being launched back into the harsh atmosphere and crash-landing back to the earth after a night of dancing carelessly with the lights in the sky. The noblewoman stands dumbfounded momentarily and her husband is hardly any better off.

"Darling, I…" Preston's voice lingers awkwardly as he tries to find the right words to say. "…I thought you agreed to stop wearing your hair like that?"

Vera simply offers a dreary frown and pulls the hair tie out, her long locks falling to her shoulders once more.

 _Spoiled and ruined. Spoiled and ruined. Spoiled and ruined._


End file.
